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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626621">Perpetuity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse447/pseuds/eclipse447'>eclipse447</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Cornelius - Freeform, DreamSMP - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existential Crisis, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I cant write kissing, Immortal, Immortal Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Immortality, Insecure Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs - Freeform, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Miles Memeington - Freeform, Romance, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Supportive GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Tales From The SMP, Time - Freeform, this took so long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:54:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28626621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse447/pseuds/eclipse447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dream is an immortal being and in his past, living as a man called Cornelius, he fell in love with a man named Miles. but miles died, leaving dream in despair. he continued living his life, forgetting about Miles. Until, one day, Dream met a man. </p>
<p>A man named George.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Perpetuity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by a post i saw on twitter, I'll @ them once I find their tweet</p>
<p> </p>
<p>this took so long and I'm so freaking proud of it. enjoy :3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>THEN</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man had seen so much. He had existed for centuries, yet didn’t look a day over 21. Wherever he went, he brought joy alongside a strong desire to protect. Though, only few had the pleasure of witnessing this. When he was born, he was normal. Indeed, he was as stereotypical as any boy born in the 1300s. He was always bright, outshining the others in school from an early age, never once getting punished or yelled at for anything. Only once he hit the impressive age of 40 did he genuinely realise something different about him. The man had been watching his friends in the village age around him, many catching diseases and passing early, yet he hadn’t appeared to age a day of 20. His acquaintances grew beards, developed wrinkles and such, yet he never did. People his age faded into the universe, and he kept living. Some called him a miracle, some a witch. Others said he was the reincarnation of Jesus himself, yet he knew that wasn’t true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> 60. 70 years old, and the blonde man knew something was wrong. All his friends and family had passed, yet he still lived. The man looked early 20’s when he was in his late 80’s. Afraid of himself, he stayed in his small house in the village, only ever leaving for supplies. He lost track of time, ending up losing himself in the process. He didn’t know how many years had passed, but he was always greeted with confused faces when he left his home. So when the man had forgotten his name, birthday and everything else about himself, he left. He rode on horseback away from his home village, no longer able to endure the whispers. He had nothing but the clothes on his back, the tiniest amount of money and his horse Spirit. Time had become a friend but also a stranger. He knew time better than anyone, yet even he knew nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came across another village, smaller than his own. He doesn't know how long it took to get there, nor does he know how long it took to befriend every citizen. Upon his arrival, the seven citizens of the town came to investigate the new face. Most kept their distance, wary of the man. But one brave man stepped forward, and surprisingly it wasn't the mayor, but a simple cow farmer. And once he laid eyes upon Miles Found, time stopped. The blonde was always quick-witted and creative, but not when it came to fake names.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Greeting Sir! May I ask, what's your name?" Miles questions with a soft smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Cornelius Waken. I come in search of a new home to settle." the man; Cornelius replies quickly, cringing internally. Miles turns around to address his friends, looking to one man in particular, whom Cornelius would later know as the mayor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're in luck, good sir, as we have an extra house and a few jobs that we need to be filled," Miles' smile is enough to break the barrier of existence. It toys with the blonde's heart, giving him a pleasant feeling in his chest. The rest of the crowd comes over to him, throwing names he knows he won't remember. Once everyone has grown bored with the new character and left him alone; he was left with one person. Miles stood behind the dispersing crowd, a huge grin plastered across his face. Cornelius would pay an endless amount of money if it meant he got to look at that face for eternity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Come on," Miles lunges forward, grabbing Cornelius and dragging him around, showing him all part of the village. Watching the brunette get so excited about everything and speaking with such sentiment made Cornelius's heart melt. He asked questions, cracked jokes, frankly did everything in his power to make the other laugh. Yeah, he could get used to this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only, not everyone gets happy endings.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>NOW</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s proud. Proud of the land he’s created, proud of the people in it. After years of fighting in pointless wars that lead to nothing, they had finally achieved peace. With L’manburg gone, the citizens of the former country adjusted to life surprisingly well. Maybe they too realised they didn’t need a government to survive. They had finally learned from their mistakes. He’s proud but compunctious. Dream sits atop a tall tower overlooking the land. He watches with an envious eye as the people talk and laugh, not a care in the world. None even sparing him a second glance as hit sits dangerously close to the edge, legs dangling precariously. New people arrived in the country every day, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. Even after building a country from the ground up, he was overlooked. Thrown to the side like a piece of trash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Outcast.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blonde sighs, pushing up his mask a bit to rub his face, feeling hopelessness wash over him again. The feeling had become routine, welcoming. The immortal man had lived through so much scrutiny and brutality, so he thought victory would be more than a bittersweet celebration and watching citizens from afar. His accomplice in the war had since left, moving on to greater things, leaving Dream as the unofficial supervisor of these lands. The lands he knew oh so well. He fought for so long for this peace, yet he felt nothing. Though, when did he ever anymore? His only friend had left him, seemingly realising the freak Dream knew himself to be and leaving without a second thought. The blonde had picked up on a pattern. Any time someone would speak to the immortal man, they would go soon after. So in order to save his land, he covered his face and never spoke. He lost trust in others and himself, especially after what they did to him all that time ago. Many years ago, those who believed the immortal man was a witch decided to take matters into their own hands, searching for him with a torch, lit with fire. And once they found him well... he didn't come out the same. He had let them into his home, thinking they were friends, but no. He couldn't have been more wrong. He made a vow to not trust anyone after that until he met </span>
  <em>
    <span>him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Miles. However, that only ended in pain, further proving the point Dream should've learned initially.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, maybe it was for the better to be alone. Save himself from more grief he would never get over, even 600 years or so later. Even if Dream got lonely sometimes, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it by now. He’s become numb to the hurt and betrayal that he feels nothing at all anymore. Ironically, the immortal man wasn’t living. That is until a brunette who’s smile shook the Earth enters his life and turns his perspective upside down.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man in green feels a light tap on his shoulder. He tenses at the unwelcomed contact, springing to his feet and whipping around to face the offender. For someone who was known for stealth and always being on high alert, he failed to hear the short man climb the ladders obnoxiously loud. Dream analyses his face, scanning his memory bank to recognise the character; however, he couldn’t remember him, so maybe he was new.  Nonetheless, the man looks incredibly familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name Sir?” a soft voice asks, heavy British accent surprising to Dream. No one ever spoke to him; no one even acknowledged his existence. So for someone to even ask his name, Dream was confused. Through all his time on earth, hardly anyone cared for him. Most were baffled by the man, who always seemed to be there no matter how long it had been. Not many were aware of his immortality since not many cared to ask. Deep in thought, Dream forgets to answer the boy. It’s been a while since he’s had any form of conversation, so he finds it hard to maintain a conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the masked man doesn't respond, the brunette giggles and Dream has already figured out that it's a nervous habit. "Well I'm George in case you didn't know," he holds out a hand to Dream, readjusting his goggles with the other. Dream snaps from his trance, takes his hand and shakes gently. The other man is soft, or as much as he can feel with his fingerless gloves on. He feels like he's stuck in a daze, not fully present in this moment, trapped in his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dream," he mumbles, pulling his hand away and pulling up his gloves. He brunette perks up a bit, looking up to the taller. Dream is just as surprised as the other, internally screaming at himself for sharing, knowing the other would leave him alone soon enough. The second the brunette got the information he wanted, he would go. Use him like everyone else. Maybe the townspeople put him up to it, knowing the new man in town could be a new connection for Dream. They could've put him up to it, maybe offered him some money in return for talking to the older man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dream? Is that a nickname? It's pretty," he says quickly, almost rambling. Dream tenses up, every muscle in his body pulling tight. The mix of surprise from the question and the answer to the question scares him. George rubs the back of his neck nervously, fearing he may have screwed up. The anxiousness builds the longer it takes for Dream to respond. Finally, the blonde releases a breath, letting his shoulders relax, subsequently allowing George to do the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some unknown reason, Dream feels compelled to tell him. He has an urge to tell the man he just met something he hadn't spoken aloud in over 600 years. He hadn't dared think about the origins of that name, especially to a stranger. Any sign of who he was and the brunette would leave. For some reason, he didn't want that. Dream feels a weird pull towards the other and wants to be close to him. But he knows who he is, and knows that no one would stay around him, no matter what he said now. No one ever has. George is no different.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He'll leave anyway, what's the point?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Um, I'm sorry for asking, Dream. Anyways," he laughs awkwardly, "but what are you doing up here on your own? Are you okay?" the stranger asked. He scans over the shorter figure briefly, feeling a sense of calm alongside confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I am okay. I was just having some alone time" the brown-haired boy raises an eyebrow but doesn't question it. Dream feels weak under his gaze, knees feeling shaky. He turns back to the ledge, sitting himself back down, expecting the other to lose interest and leave. What he didn't expect, was for George to sit down beside him, closer than anyone else has been in the last 500 years or so. He doesn't know anymore; it gets hard to track. The impulse to share with George rises, a tight feeling entering his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Clay, but please don’t call me that,” the brunette nods, biting down on his lip softly and awkwardly, attempting to think of more small talk. Dream is internally screaming and kicking himself. The name brings back memories he’d rather keep hidden. He needs to forget this again, so Dream takes this time to study the new person. He has short brown hair, piercing brown eyes and is only slightly smaller than the blonde. He wore laughable sized goggles on his head, intriguing to Dream. Dream didn’t even have to think about how was older, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>obvious reasons</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But something about the way George looked gave him deja vu. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like Clay. I think it’s a lovely name. But if you hate it, of course, I won’t use it,” Dream lets out a silent breath of relief that no further questions were asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cornelius is too long, what about,” the brown-haired boy pretends to think for a moment, smirking mischievously. “Clay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The blonde wheezes, doubling over, although secretly loving the way it sounded coming from the Brit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Actually, you don’t have a choice, I think Clay is a lovely name.” the brunette says confidently.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Clay smiles, wrapping his arms around the other. “Okay Miles,” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where do you live?” is George’s next question. Dream thinks for a second, deciding to answer honestly. What does he have to lose at this point anyway?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have a home anymore, I just roam.” George turns to him in an uncomfortably sharp movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?! What do you mean you don’t have a home?” the blonde shrugs, “Do you want to live with me?” Dreams jaw drops, a question slipping that he’s been dying to ask. In all honesty, George was also surprised he offered that to the man he just met. But something about Dream drew him in, intrigued him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“George, why are you still here?” His voice was full of hurt, surprising himself as well as the brunette. Dream watches George physically flinch, before removing his glasses to look Dream directly in the eyes- or rather, mask. Except Dream looks away. The man who had a reputation for being cold hearted and stoic was cracking before his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What kind of question is that?" is the response. Dream just waits, staring straight ahead in anticipation. He won't show it, but his hands were willing themselves to shake and display his nervousness to the world. It took everything in his power to keep them still; however, he didn't have to worry about the saddened expression on his face since that was covered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You seem nice. And I'm new here and wanted a friend. So when I saw you up here on your own, I wanted to say hi," the older can hear the smile in George's voice. To be honest, George doesn't know why either. After seeing the man sitting atop a tower, he was captivated. Even without speaking a word to the other, he liked him. The brown-eyed boy didn't know what it was, nor did he care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"George I'm gonna be honest, but I don't think you should be talking to me," George's heart sinks, waiting patiently for Dream to continue. "Something about me drives people away, so leave while you still can."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George places a hand on Dream's knee, forcing the other to look into his bright brown eyes. Dream shivers, taking in every single detail on the younger's face. Dream wanted to tell everything to this man. He had known him for a mere 10 minutes, yet he wanted this man in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not going anywhere, Dream." George whispers, voice soft and sweet. And that all it took for the tears to tip over the edge, dropping from the bottom of his mask.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'll never leave you, Clay," Dream smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around the brunette, placing a soft kiss on the top of his head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay," Dream replies, voice barely a whisper, allowing George to press himself into Dreams side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>NEXT</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pale hand caresses the side of Dream's face, causing him to lean into the touch with a soft smile. The hand grazes over the side of the mask, hesitating. Dream brings a hand up on top of the others, trying to encourage him before he changes his mind. He should be the nervous one, but if he could hear George's heart rate right now, he'd be calling a doctor. George had wanted this ever since he met the blonde, always fascinated in the masked man. Sure, he had fallen for Dream for all his other qualities, but he was so excited to see the others' face. But that's not to say Dream wasn't nervous, no. Nervous was an understatement. Dream was petrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's okay," Dream whispers, rubbing a circle over George's hand. George takes a deep breath, eyes lighting up for a second, shouting a quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh! </span>
  </em>
  <span>before disconnecting from the other, turning behind him and grabbing the clout goggles from the table. Dream hums in acknowledgment, now aware of the fact that they helped George see colours. George slides them on his face, before turning back and gripping the sides of his mask once more with two hands this time. His hands shook slightly, knowing that after an entire year of dating, he would see his boyfriend's face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George was informed of Dream's gift, (or as he calls it, curse) of immortality a few months ago when the blonde accidentally let it slip. It was George's birthday, and the two were celebrating together in their home. George had a thought and ended up asking about the blondes birthday and Dream stating he didn't remember. This comment led to a full questioning from George about how the supposed 21-year-old couldn't remember his birthday. Dream mentioned that he hadn't had a birthday since the first hundred years of his life, and after that, it became a chore to remember. It wasn't worth it in the end, and his birthday lost significance throughout history. His name was in the same boat, just being something that wasn't said enough; therefore, it slipped from his memory. While Dream never spoke about his past, George was aware that as far as Dream knew, he would never die. This wasn't really a big deal to him, and they never brought it up again. Dream was thankful for this since it was something he despised thinking about. However, another one of Dream's secrets was about to be exposed. No one had seen his face in centuries, ever since… well, that's not important.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So now that his form of security is seconds away from gone, he feels terrified. Terrified that the person he loves the most would leave once they saw him for who he truly was. He feels George wrap a finger around the string to pull it off easier and tightly closes his eyes. A fresh gust of air hits his face, and he hears George gasp. Seconds of agonising silence and the mask removed completely, and Dream hears it hit the floor with a loud bang. The blonde feels panic and fear overcome him, causing tears to well up in his eyes and his hands shake. He feels a hand run down the side of his face, rubbing small circles over his cheek, helping keep his breathing steady. The blonde hates feeling vulnerable, even in the comfort of his own home. He fights the feeling to run and escape, keeping his feet grounded as his boyfriend studies him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wow," George whispers, voice so soft and magical with his accent. Dream takes a deep breath, trying to contain the flood of fear pulsing through his body. Wow was such a terrible thing to say, especially now. It had so many meanings to the blonde, further adding to the anxiety and insecurity he feels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dream, please open your eyes," the comfort in George's voice instantly convinces Dream, and the blonde complies, opening his eyes and letting the tears that had built up underneath them fall all at once. He always crumpled under George, doing everything in his power to make the other happy. He would give the world to George, just to see him smile or laugh. He meets Georges gaze, watching in anticipation as he watches his boyfriends eyes scan over him at a million miles an hour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh honey,” George says, admiration and sympathy filling his tone as he rubs his thumb against Dreams cheek, slowly tracing up the scar over the left side of his face. It looks to be some sort of burn mark, and whether it was accidental or not, he wasn’t going to ask. The blonde seems scared enough; he didn’t need to add to that. Dream refuses to speak, keeping his mouth shut in a tight line because if he speaks, he knows he will break. George can’t stop looking into the other’s eyes. They were so green, greener than any forest, any jewel, and they were beautiful. George was mesmerised by them, and he saw nothing less of Dream. In fact, he saw so much more. Dream was beautiful, and he needs to know that. Maybe, just maybe he’ll believe George.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dream, you are perfect,” the blonde frowns, confusing George immensely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” is the only word he says, tone packed with pain, voice cracking slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you mean how? You are gorgeous, Dream. Whoever made you think different is wrong," George replies, voice sure and stern. Dream nods, knowing there's no point arguing, lowing his eyes to his hands which are nervously fiddling. George puts a finger underneath the taller's chin, raising it to meet his eyes, pulling off his glasses and allowing the green to fade to a murky yellow. Yet he's still beautiful. George traces over the rough skin of the burn, yet it's still beautiful. He wishes Dream can see him as he does, and maybe one day, one day he will. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream had scars, inside and out. Most if not all, George had no idea about. What he did know was that living for hundreds of years takes a toll on you, physically and mentally, and he would be here every step of the way. Anytime Dream would need him; he would be there, because he loved Dream, more than anyone else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>AFTER</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dream," the brunette says, voice filled with admiration. "Stop thinking."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blonde laughed, pointing to a cloud and spitting some random animal it vaguely resembled. The couple was atop a hill, laying together after a picnic and staring at the clouds, just enjoying each other's presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, but seriously," George props himself up on his elbows to look into his eyes, "what are you thinking about?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream sighs, brainstorming ways to avoid this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Time always felt different to the immortal man. It’s as though he became numb to the inevitable tick of the clock. Days that would pass slowly to anyone else were over in the blink of an eye to him. His perception became skewed the longer he lived. He had existed beyond the point of recognition, now merely moving with the flow. So when his partner became older and frailer, he didn’t notice. He no longer saw the little things, since strangely, there isn’t enough time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The man had forgotten so much during his time alive. Since it had been a lengthy period since he’d been in a relationship, this includes forgetting the consequences of love. He forgot the pain he dealt with when Miles took his final breath and the years of grief he fought through. During this time, all he wanted was someone who would understand what he was going through, a rock to stand on per se. But no one wanted to help the strange man who seemed always to be there, no matter how many years passed—the outcast who lived in the centre of the village since the beginning. Many people envied him, adding to the guilt Dream felt when he wished for his death. The only immortal being in existence wanted nothing more than to die.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In theory, he should be the most alive person on this planet, since he physically can not die. But even living people don't live. And the man who had lost track of his age was certainly not living. He was thriving physically, but mentally he was beyond dead. He loved Miles with his whole soul, but the love blinded him once again. Miles was the first person he ever formed a genuine bond with, and the blonde never once thought about the consequences of love until it almost broke him. He never realised that the man would be gone sooner than he thought, becoming nothing more than a pile of ashes and a distant memory. As Dream continued to age, his true love's memory faded to become nothing but a face in his dreams. The love, however, that never died out. In fact, it had returned twice as strong in George. The man was perfect in every way, contrasting to Dream. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Nothing," he replies after a moment. George hums, laying back down beside Dream, wrapping his arms around him. He throws his legs over the blonde's and wraps his left hand around Dream right. He places his right hand on the older's chest, letting it rise and fall with Dreams' steady breaths.  By now, George is fully aware of who Dream is, yet he's never been able to get the other to talk about his past. He knows he's been through some shit, and he knows about the demons he carries with him. Yet George doesn't love him any less.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I love you, Clay," Dream shivers beneath him, "And whatever is on your mind, it doesn't matter," </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smaller begins tracing circling on his boyfriend's chest, studying the others face as his eyes scrunch, followed by the rest of his face. George's posture softens, hugging his boyfriend a little tighter as he takes in a shaky breath, opening his eyes as tears drip down. After a moment of tearing George's heart in half, he speaks, voice husky and unstable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just-" he's cut off with a hiccup, taking in a short breath, "I'm scared George,"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George knows exactly what he's talking about. It was something that George had accepted the second they started dating, but he never once thought about what it was like for Dream. His heart disintegrates at the realisation. He has been so selfish, so naive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm gonna lose you Georgie, and I can't do anything about it," his voice was barely above a whisper, overflowing with pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's gonna be okay, Dream. We still have so much time,"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There isn't enough time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"George, centuries ago, there was a man," George's ears perk up at the realisation that Dream was opening up. "He was my everything; my second half. I was stupid to think I could be happy with him because what felt like minutes after I met him, he was gone. I miss him so fucking much George, and I spent centuries wallowing in my sorrows about it. I love you so much, but I shouldn't have done this. I can't go through that again. Plus, it's gonna break me more this time because of the fact that now I love you so much more than I do him."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George's jaw is on the floor at this point. There was nothing he could do about this, and he didn't know what to say to this. He keeps his mouth shut, continuing to trace circles on his boyfriend's chest to reassure the other. Dream brings a hand up, uselessly wiping the tears away only for fresh ones to replace them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“George, I can’t even remember when my birthday is, who says I won’t remember you?” Georges circles stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He presses into Dream’s ribs, pushing himself up to make direct eye contact, meeting the blondes feeble gaze. The others once bright green eyes were dull, hidden behind layers of unshed tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dream even if you forgot me, I’m with you. Even if you fall for someone else, I’m with you. You don’t understand, but he is watching you now, and I am sure he is proud of you. I know you love me, and you know I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll never leave you.” George takes a deep breath, cupping Dream’s face with a warm gaze. “You’ve been through so much, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Brown hair threaded through his fingers as he pulls the other close.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Unable to accept the truth of the matter, the blonde rests his head against the others far too pale skin, ignoring the icy temperature.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Dream breaks eye contact, looking to the sky. "You have no idea, Georgie." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long moment of silence follows, with George tracing a line across the older's wet cheek and Dream trying to calm his breathing. Eventually, George lays back down atop the blonde, but his hand remains on his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"His name was Miles, George," George raises an eyebrow. "Miles Found,"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Georges's eyes widen in realisation, muttering a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh </span>
  </em>
  <span>in response, eliciting a saddened hum from the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sometimes, I wonder if I fell in love with you because of him. But then I realise that you look similar, but are completely different. So this time when I'm alone again, it's gonna hurt differently."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels strange for Dream to be talking about George's death as though it was about to happen, but it was inevitable, and he needed to get this out. Once he started speaking, he couldn't stop. All this built up trauma and pain had been inside him for too long, so once the damn cracked, everything broke through and spilled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I trust you, Clay," and when Dream scanned George's face for any sign of deception, he picked up none. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Dream uses all the strength in his core to pull himself up and capture George's lips in his. The younger doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, moving his mouth like a perfectly choreographed dance. All the unspoken pain and suffering Dream felt through his life was shared with George as he kissed the life from the brunette. The older repositions himself to sit upright, pulling George into his lap without disconnecting. Tongues spiral around tongues as George grabs the back of the blonde's head, threading his fingers through his hair and pulling his head impossibly closer. Dream runs his hands are George's sides under his shirt, basking in the shiver it sends through George. George tries to take control, pushing deeper and closer to Dream as humanly possible, almost knocking Dream backwards. He does just that, placing a hand on the ground and lowering the taller to the grass, so George is laying directly atop Dream. Dream bites down softly on George's bottom lip, eliciting a sound from the man that drove Dream to push forward more. Before things escalate further, they separate to breathe, with George collapsing down to cuddle into his boyfriend's side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything will be okay,” George whispers with a smile. Dream returns the smile, the feeling of euphoria juxtaposing the existential dread he always felt. He didn’t believe George, but at least he could pretend for now. At least to keep George happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
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